


If He Makes It

by percabethica



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, pre tlo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percabethica/pseuds/percabethica
Summary: Mount St. Helens exploded a while back, and while Annabeth is a little burnt and a lot heartbroken, Percy is nowhere. Connor tries his best to be what she needs.Pretty short oneshot.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Connor Stoll, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, connabeth, percabeth - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	If He Makes It

**Author's Note:**

> I blame y’all for starting this revolution because I LOVE one sided angst. Also, this isn’t my usual style of writing so it’s a little something new for me! Hope you like it xx

Connor Stoll’s life, objectively, kinda sucks. 

His half brother is a villain intent on destroying the world as they know it. His full brother is an idiot who played the world’s weakest prank on him (really Travis? Shaving cream in the bed? Oldest trick in the book). Oh, and he’s in love with his best friend, who definitely loves him, but doesn’t love him _back._

If he had to rank them, he’s not sure which one is the worst of them. Priorities are hard sometimes. 

The thing is, he remembers Annabeth as the annoying little girl who followed Luke around like his tiny shadow, always trailing somewhere behind him. She was a year younger than Connor and irritating, a showy little know-it-all with messy hair and a squeaky voice. Once he got over his jealousy of the girl hogging his cool older brother, the friendship was a fast and firm one. He only had to prank her once - with her worst fear, oops - to realise she wasn’t to be messed with, and from then on she was the best ally he could ask for. 

But it’s hard to see that same Annabeth in the Annabeth he knows now. For starters, she’s older, and taller, and she’d sooner curse Luke out than run around after him. She’s also beautiful now, which is new and terrifying. Connor isn’t used to his heart speeding up when she’s around, her eye rolls and sarcastic grins and hysterical laughs making his stomach feel funny. It’s new-ish, if you count from the age of ten as _new._

In Connor’s defence, his crush at ten was very different to his crush at fifteen. At ten, they were just best friends and she was cute and made him laugh. At fifteen, she’s seriously gorgeous (prettier than Silena, not that he’d ever dare say that to either of them for fear of the consequences), and totally in love with Percy Jackson. 

They’re still best friends, though, and Connor has a duty to be there for the girl that he’s grown up loving. She’s sat down in their usual spot, round the back of the Hera cabin, where it’s quiet and no one ever goes. There’s a fragility to her face that he knows few can recognise; she’s steely and solid, but he knows the angle of her jaw and the smooth stillness of her expression that feels closer to fractured porcelain than stone. 

Her stare is often blank these days. Connor knows why - she’ll cry if she doesn’t control it. Annabeth hates losing control of anything, even when it’s something she shouldn’t control. Like her own emotions, or Luke’s motivations for villainy. 

“What’s up, Anna baby?” He greets, his cheerful tone discordant with the dark night and cold air. He throws himself down beside her and bumps her arm, careful not to nudge the tender burns all wrapped up in bandages. 

Thankfully, like always, she laughs, even if it’s briefer than usual. “Mr Stoll. How did you find me?”

“Psychic intuition, and a trail of blonde hairs.” He reaches over and plucks one out of her head, laughing as she yelps in pain and then smacks his hand. He deserves to be called a dick. It’s a friendly thing. It’s part of their language. 

It grows quiet, and Connor knows she’s happy about that. She wants companionable silence, she wants a moment where she knows she’s not alone, and she can safely get lost in her thoughts. He knows this about her, because he knows her like the sun knows the day and the moon knows the night, and like a prankster knows to always have a lookout. He also knows, regrettably, that he can’t allow her to have that silence.

Because no one else, other than Connor Stoll himself, can get Annabeth talking. And she needs to talk, even if that’s not what she wants. 

Gods, he wishes he could just be what she wants. 

“So… are you gonna tell me what you’ve been thinking about for the last three days?” He ventures, not making eye contact. It’s easier not to look at her, because if he looks, he’ll fall in love a little more and she’ll break his heart a little more. “Anna, I’m here for you.”

“I know.” She says, and her voice is flat, deliberately devoid of emotion. He hates when she does that, but it’s a thing she’s done since they were kids. Deflect, ignore, suppress. It’s unhealthy, but it works. Then she adds, “Nico Di Angelo.”

It’s not what he expected, but he’s glad. “Oh? The little emo kid?”

She shoves him, and he’s happy to notice a little bit of playfulness in it. “Yes, the little emo kid, as you put it. He’s the son of Hades.”

“I know.” Connor blinks. He’s not the best at this kind of thing, but he’d give anything to be able to help her, as awkward as he feels. “We all do.”

“A half blood of the eldest gods. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades.” She sounds like she’s reciting something, as if the words aren’t her own, but Connor’s never heard them before. She says them with a slow, sad certainty, like they’re a death sentence she’s reading from. “The prophecy could be about him.”

“The prophecy’s about Percy,” Connor replies, and immediately hates himself for it. Saying the name makes her wince in pain, and makes him shrivel up inside. Percy Jackson is her everything, and he’ll never be that for her, as much as he dreams about it. He should never have even brought the guy up. 

Annabeth shrugs, but she’s looking away. “Only if he makes it to sixteen. If he makes it…”

She trails off, lifting her head up to the sky. For a second, he copies her, wondering what it’s all about, and then he can’t resist glancing at her, and the moonlight on her face draws his gaze right to her eyes, glistening with the tears she’s refusing to shed. At a loss for what else to do, he grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her body closer, holding on until her head is leaning against his neck, and wraps an arm around her. 

Her tears start falling, and he’s torn. On one hand, the girl he loves is nestled closely in his arms, a type of affection they’re no strangers to but still makes his heart flutter; on the other hand, she’s shaking, her tears stronger than her rattled form can handle. In misplaced anger, she clenches her fist. 

“Stupid fucking arm,” She curses. “Gods, it hurts.”

Connor falters. “Annabeth—”

She breaks, and his heart shatters. “Connor, _where is he?_ Why didn’t he make it out of the volcano?”

_Because he’s not invincible. Because people like us die every day for reasons we can’t control. Because he’s not as perfect as you think. Because maybe it wasn’t meant to be._

“I wish I could tell you that, Anna,” His throat feels like there’s a lump the size of a gobstopper in it, his voice thick and heavy. Seeing her upset is a hellish type of pain, and it’s even worse than she’s so upset over Percy - like pouring salt into the wound. 

She sobs into his shoulder, her cries more like shuddering, gasping whines. Her pain is immeasurable, and it kills him. “I like him _so much,_ Connor. I can’t lose him now. I can’t lose anyone else.”

He wants to tell her that he’s not going anywhere - that he’ll always stay, always be at her side when she needs him. She’s already lost Thalia, even though she got her back, and she’s lost Luke. Losing Percy is the final straw, and it’s the kind of straw that the relief of having Connor there is really no relief at all. If he’s a straw, Connor’s a speck of dust. 

It’s not fair to analogise like that, because he knows that Annabeth loves him like childhood best friends love each other, deeply and eternally. But he wants to kiss her and wipe her tears away and then make her laugh by pranking Clarisse, even if he gets destroyed by her stupid spear, and she doesn’t want any of that with him. It’s his fault for catching feelings, though she’s the prettiest girl at camp and it’s also not fair to expect him _not_ to fall in love with her. 

“Can I tell you something? And- and you have to promise not to laugh at me.” She composes herself long enough to choke out her words. 

Connor wants to snort derisively. As if he’s gonna laugh at her right now, when she’s a shell of the strong, fierce, independent warrior she likes people to view her as. Of course he won’t. 

“No promises,” Is his cheeky response instead, to which she giggles wetly, still sniffly and upset, and pretends to hit him. “Lay it on me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I kissed him, right before it- it happened. I just kissed him and told him to be careful and then ran off in the other direction, invisible, and the volcano exploded and Typhon is awake and Percy’s nowhere to be found.” 

Her sentences run on and on, but in a way, it’s easier for him to hear when they’re like that. It’s less time for him to have to process the fact that she really does love the goddamn son of Poseidon. His hand keeps rubbing her back, gentle and soothing, and he wonders when he started doing that, and why his instinct is so stupidly tender. 

“If he’s… Connor, if he’s… you know… he’ll never know how much I like him. Fuck, I’ll never know if he likes _me._ And that’s the _least_ of our problems but it’s all I can think about.”

Connor can’t even be mad, because Percy is genuinely a great guy. They’re pretty good friends, really. He’s got a cracking sense of humour, hardly ever gets mad at pranks, and can pull some pretty sweet tricks himself when he’s feeling crafty. At times, it feels like Percy is just a cool guy mixed up in some Greek God drama, not The Hero Of The Prophecy that he’s meant to be. Percy is fun, and friendly, and clearly handsome, and he has something that Connor doesn’t, and he can’t even be mad at him for it. 

The thing is, Connor can never be mad. There’s always been an obstacle between them, and there always will be. A girl like Annabeth isn't meant to be a guy like Connor, and it’s just the way of the world. Before Percy, there was her infatuation with Luke. Connor is her best friend, but in weird workings of love, he’s the second choice she’s never needed. 

He’s not upset at her, or Percy, or even Luke. He’s just sort of upset about it. 

“Of course he likes you.” He opts to tell her, careful to use present tense to avoid any kind of insinuation that he didn’t make it, as unlikely as it seems. “I know you think he’s not the sharpest sword in the arena, but he’d have to be blind and dumb not to like you back, Anna. You’re gorgeous.”

She sighs, tears still streaming silently from her face, her head heavy on his shoulder. “You’re sweet. I just… I don’t even know.”

He forces a grin onto his face. “Anyway, though, did you just confess your first kiss to me? Like, are we talking a proper face grabbing, lip smacking _kerpow_ of a kiss? Not like a peck, right?” 

He has to hype up these moments, because that’s what best friends do, even when it feels like a knife in your chest. 

She gasps and starts to laugh in spite of herself, her head finally lifting from his shoulder. If it were lighter outside, he knows she’d be blushing. “Connor! It was - it was a kiss, okay? Like, I knew that we were in danger, and I…” She swallows. “I wanted to kiss him. Just in case.”

He nods, like he understands. “Yeah. Little Annabeth all grown up.”

She laughs weakly. “She sure is. Biggest mistake of her life.”

The biggest mistake of Annabeth’s life is falling in love with someone like Percy, who’s tied to the fate of the world by his red string of life. He’s volatile, his very existence is unpredictable, and she’s someone who has never had stability in her life long enough to settle. Her biggest mistake is loving someone who will hurt her, despite the fact that it would kill him to know he ever caused her pain. Because Percy is a good guy in a shit situation, and no one knows whether he’ll live past sixteen, and Annabeth deserves love that’ll last a lifetime. 

The biggest mistake of Connor’s life is loving Annabeth, because she’s as beautiful and funny and smart as she is unattainable, and he’s already set up for heartbreak. 

If that heroic bastard somehow miraculously survives, shows up at camp, fights in the war - Connor knows Annabeth, and knows she’ll be furious at him. He also knows that they’ll stop tripping over their feelings for one another, and the day they admit the truth is gonna be the day Aphrodite could happily retire. 

They’ll have a love for the ages, if he makes it. Connor will watch and support them.


End file.
